


searching: Best Collars for Submissives

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky and Steve do things their own unique way, Collars, JARVIS is a good bro, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Switching, True Love, my kink list challenge, not master/slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wee small hours of the morning, Jarvis notices surreptitious use of Steve and Bucky’s Starkbook: searching “best collars for submissives.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	searching: Best Collars for Submissives

**Author's Note:**

> for my kink list challenge: collars :)
> 
> This is not the usual story about collaring. It's not the standard setup with a strict Dom/sub dynamic. I hope you will enjoy! Your feedback is always appreciated!

In the wee small hours of the morning, Jarvis notices surreptitious use of Steve and Bucky’s Starkbook: searching “best collars for submissives.” Jarvis does not record and ensures that the browser history is always properly cleared.    
  
*  
_Encrypted Journal, JBB:_  
  
Usually the dom picks the collar.  But if I make the choice, he’ll understand my intentions better. I want him to know, without a doubt, that I will always be the one, behind him, covering him, watching every vantage, ready to take down whoever threatens him with extreme prejudice. I will always be the one who comes to him, offering myself, ready to be whatever he needs.  
I like the one with the camo garment cloth. We didn’t wear camo back then. But I was thrown under a blind, held against my will for so many lives. I want him to know that I know he can see me, still, through the blurred shapes and the lying outlines.  He sees me, true, and so I’ll fasten this around my throat, offering him the words I speak, the air I breathe, the blood that charges through my heart, because he’s the only one I ever trusted, the only one I’ll ever trust.    
  
*  
  
“Jarvis?”  
  
“Yes, Captain?”  
  
“Where’s Bucky?”  
  
“Sergeant Barnes is in the training room sparring with Ms. Romanov.”  
  
“Oh.  I’d like to watch that.  But, um, more important things.”  
  
“I am recording the match — you may view it at a later time.”  
  
“Oh!  Okay, good.  So, Jarvis.  I need your advice.”  
  
“Certainly, I’ll be happy to assist if I am able.”  
  
“Well, this is a little embarrassing.”  
  
“My parameters should reassure you, Captain. I am designed to be of assistance, not to judge.”  
  
“Okay. Well, okay.  I want to look at collars.  Like, for submissives.”  
  
“For yourself or for Sergeant Barnes?”  
  
“What?! For myself!  I mean, for me to wear, as a gift to him.  I want him to know that I belong to him.  Does that make sense?”  
  
“Certainly, Captain. Based on what I’ve observed of your aesthetics, and your relationship with Sergeant Barnes, I’ve just completed a rapid scan of available options, and present this for your consideration.  Please check your phone.”  
  
“Oh, wow. It’s so sleek, so different from what I was thinking — but perfect. And I can have the tag engraved?”  
  
“Yes, Captain.  I’m assuming you would choose the titanium finish, not the black.”  
  
“The black is visually striking, but no.  The titanium is perfect.”  
  
“Shall I place an order for you, or would you like to see more options?”  
  
“i guess I should look at a few different ones, but this one is amazing. Thanks, Jarvis — you’re such a great help.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Captain.”  
  
*  
_Encrypted Journal, JBB:_  
  
The collar is plain, the fabric of it a little stiff, like the gear the army issued us so many lifetimes ago.  When it rains I can still remember the smell of wet canvas, and when it’s too hot outside I remember the sweltering air of summer nights.  The camo collar fits tight around my throat, secure, holding me close like I held him when he couldn’t breathe, when he was the one the world tried to break.  He was the one who saw me, clearer than I saw myself, threw aside the trappings I hid myself under, and pulled me in, to belong to him forever.  Camo isn’t like a dress uniform, a loud proclamation in patriotic colors — it’s my personal pledge to him, for seeing through the lies, because he trusts in who I really am.  
  
*  
  
“It’s lighter than I expected.”  
  
“Titanium is by far the most lightweight of the jewelry grade metals, but superior in tensile strength, with a pleasant lustre.”  
  
“It’s strong enough, but either of us could snap it, if we tried to.”  
  
“According to my observations of your abilities, that should be correct.”  
  
“It’s so light, it’s hard to believe it’s so strong. I can hardly feel it— but at the same time, I’m incredibly aware of it.”  
  
“That feeling of awareness seems to be part of the appeal.”  
  
“You’re a good friend, Jarvis.”  
  
“Thank  you, Captain; I very much appreciate the sentiment.”  
  
*  
  
“I have a surprise for you, Buck,” Steve said, as they made dinner. Bucky chopped the salad, and started the alfredo, while Steve dealt with the shrimp.    
  
“What kind of surprise?” Bucky asked seriously.  
  
Steve understood Bucky’s caution; not every surprise was a good thing for Bucky these days.  
  
“A good one, I hope: I got something for you.”  
  
“Funny — I got you something too,”  Bucky admitted, a little shy.  
  
“Jinx!” Steve laughed. Grinning, Bucky stuck out his pinky and Steve shook with his own.    
  
“After supper?” Bucky asked. The shrimp had curled in the sauce and everything smelled fantastic.    
  
“Sure,” Steve said.    
  
After tucking away super soldier amounts of fettucine, they were ready for their surprises.    
  
“I’ll be right back,” Bucky said.  While Bucky headed for the bedroom, Steve went to his art supply boxes. The titanium collar came in a flat, square box, matte black and unadorned.  It weighed almost nothing in Steve’s hand, in strange contrast to the powerful emotions it conjured up in Steve.    
  
Bucky’s collar came in a drawstring pouch made of that familiar army green canvas.  It felt sturdy and workmanlike in Bucky’s fist as he clutched it behind his back and met Steve on the couch.    
  
“Do you want to go first?” Steve said, a little nervous.     
  
“Let’s go together,” Bucky said.    
  
Steve nodded.  The moment felt solemn.  
  
Collaring wasn’t something either one of them had planned.  The topic had come up, been acknowledged as an idea they both felt good about, and then it drifted away. Getting to know one another again, negotiating the boundaries they’d developed since their old lives had been lost to them — they’d talked about so many things. They learned and adjusted to the shocking openness of the new century, which was actually a big relief after years of denying to the world, and even to themselves, what they were to one another.    
  
Steve knew in his heart that he belonged to Bucky —the collar he’d bought reflected his belief that Bucky came first, before anything else, and that fact was the crowning jewel in Steve’s existence.    
  
Bucky, for his part, had been lavished with Steve’s devotion when nothing else was left to him, and Steve had supported him while he put himself back together, piece by piece.  Nothing about him didn’t belong to Steve, and the plain, simple collar was just an outward sign of an inner truth.    
  
Bucky and Steve took care of each other by turns, and both of them sometimes needed to be in charge, sometimes needed to be pampered and praised.  Neither one of them wanted to be servant or master.  Bucky shivered as he remembered the way Steve had held him when he broke down, sobbing in grief and remorse and furious anger over everything that had been done to him.  He remembered how grateful he had been that Steve had gracefully let him take over for a while in the bedroom. Bucky called the shots, and Steve eagerly did whatever Bucky wanted.    
  
But as time passed, and as Bucky healed, he began to feel more relaxed and his barriers came down.  He trusted Steve and loved him with all his heart. The time finally came when Bucky lay back and let Steve be the one to take charge.  Bucky remembered the feeling, when Steve was a feisty, headstrong little guy — sometimes, he just took over, sweeping Bucky under the tide of his insistent personality.  There was always a gentleness in Steve, now more than ever — Steve was strong enough to overwhelm Bucky, but he held himself in check, choosing to be gentle and tender, seducing Bucky with a powerful love that demanded nothing less than Bucky’s total surrender.  Face down under Steve, Steve’s smooth heat all around him, Steve’s relentless thrusts gliding like silk and steel deep inside him, Bucky let go as Steve worshipped him, both of them submerged in an all-encompassing passion. It was in that moment that Bucky knew he wanted to wear the collar for Steve, a sign of his absolute trust.  
  
Steve remembered the pain and the hardship of the life he’d had before.  He’d been so sick, weak and tired all the time, so many little things adding up to bring him down.  He’d overcompensated quite a bit in those days, so angry about his limitations, and his Ma and Bucky had been the only ones he had ever grudgingly allowed to help him when he needed it. Bucky had laid claim to Steve with unshakeable friendship when he was seven and Steve was only six.  Steve would never fully understand why, but all he could do was rejoice. Bucky was always, always there when he needed him, a fact that had driven him nearly to despair when he woke up alone in this new world.  Getting Bucky back was more than a miracle to Steve.  Life was worth living again. The sun came up, no longer a glaring light on a cruel world, but a golden glowing part of a universe that had spared Bucky’s life.    
  
Steve remembered how many times he had roughly turned away from Bucky, back in that angry past, how many times he’d shrugged Bucky’s caring hand away from his bony shoulder, needing to prove he could get by on his own.  Bucky had always, somehow, understood. Putting a titanium band around his own throat was a pale reflection of his total dedication to Bucky.    
  
Steve could remember with crystal clarity the first time Bucky had lovingly allowed his metal hand to touch Steve’s throat — the hand that Hydra had wielded so cruelly, the hand that Bucky had reclaimed as his own — a deadly hand, so delicate and precise as he pulled Steve in for a soul-melding kiss. The titanium band would be a visible sign that Steve wanted Bucky’s hands on him, both of them, Bucky strong where Steve was vulnerable,  Bucky heartrendingly beautiful, flawed and perfect for Steve.  
  
Bucky produced the drawstring bag, Steve the flat, square box.  They handed them over, hearts beating fast, faces a little hot.  
  
Steve’s fingers lingered on the canvas pouch, remembered his old uniform, the one he’d stolen from the museum in an effort to bring Bucky back.  He remembered the tents and the knapsacks and so many things in that same sturdy green army cloth.  He opened the pouch and pulled out the collar, eyes lighting up as he regarded the simple design. He lifted the collar to his throat, feeling like he had in that moment in Azzano when he found Bucky alive — the whole confusing mess of war, the terrible contradictions of killing in the name of justice, risking everything he held dear for something noble and yet so abstract when it came down to Bucky’s life there on that steel table or across that fiery inferno.  Bucky knew him, so very well.  He lifted the camo collar to his throat and tried to say something, but couldn’t.    
  
Bucky opened the box and saw the sleek ring of metal.  He touched it with his metal hand — it was perfect.  So elegant, one unified whole, just like the seamless connection he’d worked so hard at re-establishing with Steve.  He glanced up to see Steve’s eyes, brilliant behind standing tears, pressing the canvas collar to his throat.    
  
“How — how does it open?” Bucky asked.  
  
“Allen wrench,” Steve whispered.  
  
And just like that, they were both laughing, laughing so hard.  The innocuous little workaday allen wrench, hidden in a key fob, so prosaic amidst the weighty moment of revealing the collars they’d chosen for themselves — and as it turned out, for each other.    
  
“Bucky, I love you, I love you so much,” Steve was laughing, pressing his face into Bucky’s neck, struggling to breathe through his hilarity.    
  
“Love you too!” Bucky returned, holding Steve’s shaking form against his own, as tears of laughter ran down his cheeks.  
  
At last they got themselves under control.  Bucky buckled the camo collar loosely around Steve’s neck, and Steve couldn’t stop smiling, worrying the edge with a finger and grinning widely.  Steve somehow got the eternity collar open and fastened it closed around Bucky’s neck, chuckling and giggling and fumbling a little with the latch until Bucky ordered him gruffly to get a hold of himself. The collar shone, almost with an inner light, perfectly capturing Bucky’s dark beauty.    
  
“What’s the etiquette here,” Bucky said.  
  
“Who cares,” Steve said, like usual.  
  
“Shouldn’t we have talked this out beforehand?” Bucky wondered.  
  
“Didn’t we?” Steve said.  
  
“Not as such,” Bucky said.  
  
“I thought we did as such,” Steve argued.  
  
“Collars: hm, yeah, was the extent,” Bucky grinned.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve smiled, sleekly content, with a lusty glow building in his eye.    
  
“And now, we both have collars,” Bucky said.  “I’m pretty sure that’s weird.”  
  
“Weird to who?” Steve wondered, scoffing with his expressive eyebrows.  
  
Bucky laughed.  He knew Steve didn’t care and neither did he.  The collars were perfect, exactly what each of them wanted, one more aspect of the incredible love that bound the two of them together, endless, then and now and forever.    
  
 

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a collar a little like the one Bucky chose:  
> http://www.leatheretc.com/fetish/3801Camo-Collar.html  
> In my mind, the camo collar is mostly cloth with only a bit of leather. 
> 
> Here is the collar Steve chose:  
> http://www.eternitycollars.com/necklaces/titanium-collar
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


End file.
